


Love Bites

by raiining



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Custody Arrangements, Forced Marriage (kind of), Get Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Possessive Sex, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil’s not lonely, because senior agents don’t get lonely, and, besides, there’s always work to keep him busy, but sometimes - occasionally - he’ll see friends with their loved ones and wish for a pack of his own.</p><p>Good thing Clint and his daughter Kate are about to come into his life, then.  Soon Phil will have complications he could never have dreamed of, an alpha puppy with a real personality, a legal question, and a boyfriend who wants to risk the Bite.</p><p>Things are about to get interesting....</p><p>(A Clint/Coulson werewolf AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bites

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for the fabulous desert_neon, who asked for a kid!fic with parental, non-Hawkeye Clint and still-badass-agent Phil. I managed to hit most of those, darling! I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> MASSIVE THANK YOU’S to the incredibly infiniteeight, who agreed to beta this for me, and came through even when it turned into 11K. THANK YOU, GORGEOUS!!!
> 
> Edit: Russian now corrected by the fabulous ThinktoThought! Thank you!

Phil rocks back on his heels as a black-and-grey wolf pup races past him down the hallways of S.W.O.R.D.

“KATHERINE ELIZABETH BARTON!” a man yells, running full speed behind her. “STOP RIGHT NOW!”

The wolf pup whines and keeps going, the man close on her heels. Phil watches them careen down the corridor and then turn, the man stumbling when the pup does a quick hard right and disappears down a side hallway.

Phil debates ignoring the situation, but he knows the corridor they’ve turned down is part of a loop that will circle back to the main bank of elevators, and the man chasing the puppy had looked haggard and miserable, sad even though he’d clearly been furious, and besides, S.W.O.R.D. was no place for a pup to run wild.

Walking over to the elevators, Phil waits beside the hallway he knows the pup will emerge from until he can hear the tell-tale clatter of slightly uncoordinated paws. Using a hint of his werewolf powers to add a burst to his speed, Phil swoops down and grabs the puppy just as she tries to run past.

She sees him at the last second and moves to dodge, but Phil’s too fast. He snags her. It’s been awhile since he’s had to deal with pups, but he remembers to catch her by the scruff of her neck, directly between her shoulder blades, so he can hoist her into the air without fear of injury.

The puppy kicks and snaps. “Now, now,” Phil says, consciously opening his scent glands and releasing his alpha pheromones. “That’s enough.”

The puppy whines. She’s an alpha, strong even though she’s a juvenile, but he’s clearly the dominant here. After a moment, her wolf brain recognizes his authority and she settles. Phil waits until he’s sure she’s not going to bite him, and then brings her in close to his chest. She growls half-heartedly, so Phil starts rubbing her behind her ears, and by the time the man who’d been chasing her catches up to them, the little wolf is nestled comfortably in Phil’s arms.

“Oh, thank god,” the man says, catching sight of them and coming to a stop. “Katherine Barton,” he starts, “you do _not_ run away from me! Not in a strange environment, not _ever,_ do you understand?”

The pup whines and digs her way closer into Phil’s chest. Phil pats her on the back and looks up at the man. “Are you her father?”

Only he’s not, Phil realizes a moment later, as the man sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He smells like dirt, like human sweat and blood, and there’s nothing of the moon about him at all. 

“No, I’m her uncle,” the man explains tiredly, confirming Phil’s suspicion. “We were here for her testing when she took off on me.”

Phil winces, looking down at the pup. “Testing day can be difficult.” 

“That’s what I hear,” the man says, “but that’s no excuse for running away and scaring me half to death.” He glares at the puppy.

The pup whimpers. 

Phil scratches her behind the ears. “It’s okay,” he says, “no harm, no foul.” He offers the man his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

“Clint Barton,” the man says, taking Phil’s hand and shaking it. 

The touch confirms what Phil already knows - Clint is 100% human, no tingle that he’d get from a werewolf contact at all. 

Still, as he looks into Clint’s eyes, Phil realizes the man is incredibly attractive. He’s a half an inch shorter than Phil, strong for a human, with broad shoulders and delicious looking arms. He’s wearing a purple dress shirt that doesn’t fit him quite right and clean jeans that have clearly seen better days. His face is pleasant, even though his nose looks like it’s been broken a time or two, and his eyes are brilliant - a startlingly mix of blue, brown, and grey.

Phil realizes that he’s staring and blinks. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Clint gives him a tired smile. “You’re an agent?” he asks, nodding at Phil’s suit.

“Yes,” Phil confirms, “a senior agent here at S.W.O.R.D. I was just coming this way to go to lunch.”

At the mention of food, the wolf pup wiggles and looks up hopefully. 

Clint sighs. “You don’t get to eat yet,” he reminds her, “you have a full round of tests to finish first.”

The pup whines. Phil chuckles and runs a hand down her back. “It’s okay, the testing isn’t too bad. It tingles, I know, and it feels very weird, but it’s important to know what you can and can’t do.”

Clint looks miserable. “We’ve been talking about it for weeks,” he says, “trying to work our way up to it. She walked in doing very well, but - ”

Phil nods. “It’s scary. I went through it at her age, and I still remember it being frightening. I had my werewolf parents with me to help, though.” 

Clint’s lips flatten. “Yeah, well, that isn’t an option here,” he says. “I’m all she’s got.”

Phil had figured on something like that. He offers Clint a smile. “That sounds rough.”

Clint lets out an exhausted sounding chuckle. “It’s been an... interesting adjustment, that’s for sure.” He shakes his head and holds out his hands. “Come on, Katie-Kate. Let’s get this over with.”

Katie huffs a breath out through her nose, but consents to be handed over. Clint holds her close, nuzzling the top of her head with his chin. It’s adorably cute. 

After a moment, both man and pup look more relaxed. Clint straightens. He looks around as if he’s just realizing that he’s in a different part of the building than he’s supposed to be in. “Uh, which way to the testing site again? I think we’ve gotten lost.”

Phil smiles. “It’s this way,” he says, indicating another hallway. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Oh, no,” Clint says, “you’re busy. Lunch, remember?”

Phil shrugs. “It can wait. You’ll have a difficult time getting back there on your own.” If Clint were a werewolf, it’d be easy - he’d be able to follow his and Katie’s scent trails without difficulty, even in his human form. As a human, it’ll be a little more difficult. S.W.O.R.D. employs mostly werewolves, and Phil is the first to admit that their signage has suffered. “Right his way.”

He leads the way down the hallway, and after a moment, Clint follows. He’s still holding Kate. She’s propped her head on his shoulder and is looking around with more curiosity than she’d shown before, her baby blue wolf eyes bright.

Phil leans in closer to her. “You know,” he says, in a conspiratorial tone, “you’ll impress the testers if you arrive back in your human form. They’ll know that you ran away as a wolf pup and if you walk back as a human, it’ll shown them that you have excellent control.”

Kate perks up. Clint looks over at Phil and smiles, before glancing back at Kate. “Is that what you want to do, Katie-Kate? Do you want to show them what a good shifter you are?”

Katie yips and then wiggles, and Clint carefully sets her down. She squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s concentrating, and then she jerks - once, and then twice - and a human girl about three feet tall appears. She’s wearing a purple dress with pink flowers, her light-brown skin flush with success, and her dark, wiry hair tangled in a knotted mess.

Clint clicks his tongue and digs a brush out of his pocket. The hair situation is clearly a regular one. “Excellent job, sweetheart,” he says, kneeling down at her side. “That was a very smooth shift.” 

Phil nods. “Very well done, Katie.”

Katie preens under the attention. “I’m the best shifter ever!” she declares, before catching sight of Phil. “Eep,” she says, suddenly shy, and turns to hide her head in Clint’s shoulder.

Clint chuckles. “Katie,” he says, “this is Agent Coulson. Do you remember him? He’s the one who caught you when you ran away.”

Katie bites her lower lip and turns her head to stare at Phil. “Hi.” 

“Hello, Katie,” Phil says, before remembering how he used to talk to the kids he’d help watch at the werewolf daycare program and crouching down so he’s more at her level. “It’s nice to meet you. Things look a little different as a wolf than they do as a human, don’t they?”

Katie nods shyly. 

“Well,” Phil says, “let’s do this properly as humans, then.” He extends a hand.

Katie sucks on her bottom lip for a moment before turning and looking up at Clint. When he nods encouragingly, she carefully reaches out with the hand not knotted in his jeans. “Hi.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie-Kate,” Phil says.

She giggles. “My name’s not Katie-Kate, it’s Katherine!”

“Oh,” Phil says, feigning surprise. “Well, then, Katherine,” he says. “It’s a pleasure. Please call me Phil.”

They shake. Phil feels the familiar tingle that tells him Kate is a werewolf in human form. 

Katie’s nose crinkles. “That feels funny,” she says, still holding Phil’s hand. She leans in to sniff him. “You smell funny, too.”

Phil can’t entirely suppress a smile, and Clint, still untangling Katie’s hair, sighs in exasperation.

“You can’t go around telling people they smell funny, Katie,” Clint says. “It’s rude. Remember when we talked about rude?”

Katie huffs. “But it’s not a _bad_ funny,” she defends. “He smells like he did before I shifted. Most people don’t smell like they do when I’m shifted.”

Clint looks confused, but Phil nods. “That’s because I’m a werewolf,” he explains. “A human will smell different whether you’re a human or a wolf, but you’ll always be able to recognize other werewolves by their scent. We’re both Alphas, which means that our noses are very good at recognizing each other no matter what our form.” 

Katie stares at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Because we’re friends?”

Phil blinks. “Well, it has more to do with dominance and territory, with stress, pack control, and the availability of resources -” he starts, before catching sight of Clint suppressing a chuckle. “I mean,” he says, looking back at Katie. “Yes.” He nods. “Because we’re friends.”

“Oh, good!” Katie says, clearly pleased. “I don’t have many werewolf friends. I don’t have many friends at all.”

Clint looks pained. “That’s what the testing’s for, remember?” he says. “When we get this over with, you can start preschool with the other werewolves and make lots of great friends.”

“I don’t want to start preschool,” Katie says stubbornly. “I want to go back home and see Laurie and Marie.”

Clint’s shoulders slump. “Katie…”

This is obviously a sensitive issue. “How about we get the testing finished,” Phil interrupts, “and then you both join me for lunch in the cafeteria. My treat.” 

He blinks as soon as the words are out of his mouth, surprised that he’d offered. He doesn’t regret that he did, though. It’s been awhile since he’s been around kids this small, and he’d forgotten how adorable they could be. Plus, Clint looks like he’s about to fall over in exhaustion, and the alpha in Phil can’t help but want to take care of him, even though he’s human.

It’s strange, Phil’s not usually attracted to humans, but for some reason he finds Clint Barton interesting. Maybe it’s because his previously-broken nose looks like it has a story behind it, or maybe it’s because he so obviously loves his niece. 

“Yay!” Katie says, argument forgotten. “Can we get dessert?”

“We’ll have to ask your uncle,” Phil says, prevaricating, and glancing at Clint. Clint shoots him a grateful look. “But first, let’s get this over with.”

They walk quickly back to the testing site. S.W.O.R.D., as the foremost expert on werewolves, maintains all testing and evaluation centers. The law that states that every werewolf must be registered is an old one, but at least the government doesn’t demand tagging any more. 

Now they simply take a genetic sample, log the werewolf’s name, gender, and status, and who turned or birthed them. There are a few simple tests, including a scan - which tingles - and a demonstration of werewolf abilities. Phil catches a glimpse of Katie’s file as the relieved-looking clerk reopens it. _Katherine Elizabeth Barton,_ it says, _Female. Alpha. Dam: Jane Barton (Deceased). Sire: Barney Barton (Riker’s Maximum Security Prison # W-7451). Legal guardian Clint Barton (human)._

Phil bites his lip and steps back. After a moment, Clint joins him, and the two of them watch from the sidelines as the clerk takes Katie through the testing sequence. They’ve clearly finished the scan and have moved onto demonstrative shifting. Katie glances over at them once or twice, but she looks calmer and not like she’s about to bolt.

It’s a challenge to stay silent. He wants to ask Clint what he’s thinking, what he’s going to do, but they don’t know each other well enough for that.

Still, after a moment, Clint sighs. “Go ahead,” he says tiredly. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Phil shakes his head. “It’s not my place to say anything,” he says.

Clint chuckles. “It kind of is,” he says with dark humour, “you’re a S.W.O.R.D. agent, after all.” 

S.W.O.R.D. stands for Strategic Werewolf Oversight and Research Division. It was originally a military branch of the United States military, which grew to power after World War One. The founders had argued that werewolves had been the only members of the military to have any real success in the disaster that was trench warfare. When World War Two broke out, S.W.O.R.D. was in a position to push for sweeping changes. 

Because of those changes, it became easier for werewolves to find jobs. Adult werewolves were able to demonstrate that they could control themselves and their urges, and juveniles were offered more protection under the law. Little of this applied to alphas, however. As the only breed of werewolf proven to pose a danger to humans, alphas continue to be severely restricted in terms of freedom and civil rights.

Phil keeps his voice even. “I’m a senior analyst these days, not a field agent. I’m sure the desk clerk will have questions for you after your niece’s evaluation, though.”

Clint nods. His eyes are on Katie, currently jumping through hoops in werewolf form. “Barney went to prison six months ago. I’m the only family she has.” 

Phil purses his lips. “You know they’re going to want to take her away from you.” 

Clint sighs.

While all werewolves are considered dangerous because of their enhanced speed, stamina, and reflexes - not to mention the fact that they can shift into large, carnivorous predators - alpha werewolves carry within them the ability to infect humans with their bite. The vast majority of those bitten die, with only three to five percent surviving to emerge as werewolves themselves. 

Nobody's quite sure when an alpha werewolf’s bite becomes dangerous, but there are case reports of it happening in children as young as two years old. Because of this, an accidental bite from a small child is considered practically inevitable. Congress had decided long ago that the risk was too high. Alpha werewolf children were to be sequestered, kept only in the presence of other werewolves, for their own good and for the good of the community. 

Most werewolf rights activists agreed. The psychological damage to an alpha child who accidentally murdered their playmates or their parents was unacceptably high. Sequestration might be cruel, but, comparatively, it was kinder. 

Phil had mixed feelings on the subject. On the one hand, he understood the dangers, but on the other, he knew from personal experience that it could be difficult to adjust to the human world as an adult if one has been kept away from humans as a child. Growing up surrounded only by werewolves had been insulating for an alpha like him.

It gave too many a feeling of superiority. Many of the werewolf cult groups S.W.O.R.D. was tasked with dealing with arose from that kind of ‘bite the entire world and let only the worthy survive’ mentality. 

Clint’s clearly aware of the legalities. “I know. I won’t let them, though.”

Phil looks at him. “You’re going to take the Bite?”

Humans who found themselves in a position of guardianship of alpha werewolves were offered a choice - removal of guardianship, or risk death to see if they could survive the transformation into a werewolf. Studies were being done to try and narrow down the likelihood of survival - many argued that there had to be a genetic component, since survivability ran in families. So far, however, the solution had proven difficult.

It didn’t help that funding was often being cut by those who feared the development of a werewolf army. Poor survival rates and low fertility had so far kept the werewolf population small. 

Clint looks resigned. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I’ll make it - Barney did, after all - but I’ll miss being human, you know?” He looks over at Phil, and then colours and looks away. “Oh, wait. Sorry. I guess you don’t.”

Phil chuckles. “No,” he admits. “I’m sure there must be things that you’ll miss, though.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, looking back at Katie. “She’s worth it, though.”

Phil smiles, a little wistfully. “You must really love her.”

Clint nods. “I do.”

They stand together in silence until Katie shifts back into a human and bursts out of the testing room with a cheer. “I’m done!” she shouts, loud enough that the werewolves on the second floor must have heard her. “Can we have lunch with Phil now?”

Clint chuckles, reaching down to scoop her up. Phil can’t help but notice how it makes his biceps flex and bunch. “We can definitely eat,” he says to Katie, before looking over at Phil. “It’s your choice if you still want to join us, Agent Coulson.”

He sounds hesitant, like he thinks that Phil might take the opportunity to step away. 

“I’d love to join you,” Phil assures them both, “if I’m not too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” Clint says, sounding honest. “It’d be nice to have an adult to talk to, actually.”

Phil smiles. “Then I’m definitely in. Besides, I said it’d be my treat - a special treat for a newly registered werewolf.” He winks at Katie.

“Yay!” Katie shouts. She grins at Phil with a bloodthirsty expression. “I want steak!”

Clint winces. “She always wants steak,” he confesses. “She craves it, I don’t know.”

Phil chuckles. “Steak it is.” He turns to Clint. “Most werewolves crave meat once or twice a week,” he explains, “sometimes more often if they’re expending a lot of energy. Our cafeteria always keeps some on hand. She’s probably just going through a growth spurt.” 

Clint nods slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

“The cafeteria is this way,” Phil says, only a little awkwardly. He doesn’t mean to rub Clint’s nose in all the werewolf things he doesn’t know. This is why Phil finds interacting with humans so difficult. “I’ll show you.”

Clint’s quiet during lunch, but Katie more than makes up for it, chattering away at a mile a minute, telling Phil details about the testing, about how well she did, about how impressed the clerk had been. He’s not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is embellished, but Katie certainly doesn’t suffer from lack of confidence. She also throws in random sentences that paint more of a picture of her last few years. Phil gets the impression that her mother died a while ago, and that she and her father moved around a lot. ‘Uncle Clint’ wasn’t in the picture then.

Phil can’t help but wonder what Barney Barton did to get arrested and sent to Rikers. It sounds as though the last stable home Katie had was a group home, where she’d lived until Clint had tracked her down. 

“We stayed in Iowa for a while,” Clint confesses at one point during the meal, when Katie’s chattering on about corn fields and Phil can’t help but reveal his confusion. “It took a while to get the paperwork done, and I had to promise to move here to New York right after. There aren’t a lot of werewolf-only preschools in the country and they had fit her in there only on an emergency basis.”

Phil nods. “I understand the legislation to push for more is getting tied up in Congress.”

Clint sighs. “Yeah. It’s okay for me - there’s more opportunity to find a job in New York than there is in Iowa - but the move was tough on her.”

Phil cocks his head and stares at Clint. “What is it that you do?” he asks. Clint’s hands are rough, like a tradespersons, but the pattern of his calluses is unusual. 

Clint takes another bite of his sandwich, avoiding Phil’s eye. “This and that.”

Phil lets it go. Katie soon commandeers the conversation anyway, bursting in to tell Phil, “Oh, do you know what? Phil, do you know what? Look what I can do - ” and showing him her loose tooth.

Phil smiles. It’s been a long time since he’s been around children. As the oldest alpha in his particular playgroup, he’d gotten used to helping with the younger pups when he was an adolescent, but soon after he’d volunteered for military service and then had been recruited into S.W.O.R.D., so it’s been awhile since he’s had a chance to interact with anyone Katie’s age. It’s fun.

“Thank you for a wonderful lunch,” Phil says, when it’s time for Clint and Katie to leave. Katie’s finally worn herself out, yawning over her food, and Clint doesn’t look much better. He’d spoken up a few more times as they ate, but mostly he just looks tired. Phil wonders how much sleep he’s been getting since he suddenly became a parent. 

He resists the urge to run a hand over Clint’s shoulders and bring him somewhere quiet to sleep. Phil has an office couch he almost never uses and a cot that Katie could crash on, but no - these people have their own apartment and their own lives. Phil’s nothing more than a one-time observer here. 

It’s surprisingly how much the thought hurts. 

“Thank you for the food,” Clint says, blinking himself awake. “I - ” he stops to yawn, jaw cracking under the force of it. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m falling asleep on you here.”

Phil resists saying something horrible, like ‘you can fall asleep on me anytime.’ Clint Barton is really far too attractive for a human. “It’s was no trouble at all,” Phil tells him. “Actually, it was pretty fun. Katie’s a lovely girl. You’re doing a great job with her.”

Clint colours. “Thank you,” he says, sounding suddenly rough. “I, um -” He shakes his head, turning to his niece. “Come on, Katie-Kate. It’s time to go home.”

Phil walks them to the door and smiles when Katie turns to wave. Clint had assured him that they didn’t live far, but Phil still has to resist the urge to chase after them, to guide them home and tuck them both into bed. 

He shakes his head and then turns around to head back into S.W.O.R.D. It’s stupid to be falling so suddenly over a pretty face, and a human one at that. Even if said pretty face is doing a fantastic job of suddenly being a parent to a lonely, alpha werewolf child he could have left where she was. 

Phil smiles. Clint Barton is really something else.

“Phil,” Nick says, several hours later, tapping on the door to his office. “Hey,” he says, when Phil looks up. “Prep time’s over. It’s time to go home.”

Phil blinks and glances at the clock before looking back at his papers. “I was just going to go over the approach one more time.”

Nick chuckles. “We’ve had two meetings on the subject already,” he says. “Everything is ready to roll, wheels up at oh-six-thirty-hours, and you’ll be coordinating from here. You know this op frontwards and backwards, Cheese. The best thing you can do right now is sleep.”

Phil nods, knowing that his old friend is right. After having lunch with Katie and Clint he’d gone back to his office for a quite half-hour of paperwork until an unexpected situation had blown up in Brazil. They’d be boots on the ground in the morning.

Lunch with Katie and Clint. Phil feels a pang deep down in his breastbone. It’d really been a lovely meal.

“Okay,” Nick says, obviously catching something in Phil’s expression. “Who is he?”

Phil suppresses a blush, even though he knows that Nick knows him well enough to see it anyway. “No one I’m going to see again.”

“Aw, now that’s just a shame,” Nick says, folding his arms and leaning back against the doorframe. “I haven’t seen you with that look on your face in a while. A long while, as a matter of fact.”

Phil rolls his eyes, even though he knows that Nick’s not wrong. It’s been several years since he’s even been attracted to anybody, let alone someone he wanted to take care of the way he wants to take care of Clint. “He was bringing his niece in for testing today when I ran into him in the corridors - almost literally,” Phil explains. “He’s nice, but his niece is an alpha and he’s human.”

Nick makes a face. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees with a sigh. He gestures at the papers. “I’m doing all of this and I still can’t help but think about some way to help him, some way to twist the system, maybe. But then I remember my training and my childhood, and I don’t know - I don’t know what’s the best thing to do.”

Nick sighs. “You know what I think of the legislation,” he says, and Phil nods. He does. They’ve had many conversations about it over the years. Nick’s an alpha as well, even if his upbringing was a little less conventional than Phil’s. “It goes too far in some cases, but the principle is sound. Until we can better understand and protect the general population, some control measures have to be in place.”

“I know that,” Phil tells him, because he _does,_ “but I can’t help but feel that there has to be some way I can help.”

Nick shoots him a look. “Did he ask for your help?”

Phil sighs. “No.”

“Then let him work out his own damn problems - it’s his life, after all, and his family.” Nick glares. “You don’t always have to fix everything, Cheese. He’s a grown man. He can decide.”

Phil doesn’t want to admit it, but Nick’s right. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m being too _alpha_ aren’t I? Trying to fuss until everything’s perfect. I don’t know why.”

Nick chuckles. “I can think of a couple of reasons,” he says, giving Phil a pointed look. “He’s probably cute and has nice arms. You’ve always had a thing for nice arms.”

Phil rolls his eyes, not wanting to give Nick the satisfaction of knowing that he’s right. “Okay, you’ve made your point already. Shut up. I’ll finish this and be gone within the hour, I swear.”

“You’d better,” Nick says, straightening and pointing a finger at him. “I can request access to the security footage, you know.”

“That would be a blatant abuse of your authority,” Phil tries. 

“Nah,” Nick says, throwing him a wink. “Sometimes, it’s just nice to be the boss.”

Phil laughs.

Forty-three minutes later he shuts down his computer, re-orders his files, and locks the door to his private office. Taking his briefcase in one hand, Phil walks through the hallways of S.W.O.R.D., heading to the main entrance and nodding to the guard on duty. He can’t help but glance towards the testing location when he passes it, locked up tight for the evening and dark with the lights shut off. 

Nick _is_ right, of course. Phil doesn’t always need to swoop in and fix everything. Somethings can’t be fixed.

Stepping outside into the cool night air, Phil debates taking the subway home. He decides to walk. It’s nice outside, fresh, and he could use the time to think things over. There are still questions about the op tomorrow he needs to work out in his mind.

He’s nearly home when he catches a whiff of something familiar, a scent that strikes a chord before he’s even consciously aware of it. “Clint?”

The man standing in front of him at the crosswalk turns. Phil blinks when he recognizes him. It _is_ Clint. 

He looks better than he had this morning, brighter. “Agent Coulson!” Clint says. “Wow. This is a surprise.”

Phil bites his cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt or startle you. I just recognized you, and spoke without thinking. Are you heading home?”

Clint nods and lifts the take out container he’s holding in one hand. It’s steaming and smelling of curry and rice. “Yup. Kate and I both crashed hard once we got back, and I only woke up an hour or so ago. The neighbour is watching her while I fetch dinner.” His smile turns bitter. “She’s a werewolf, of course. A beta, just so you know. We live in government-requisitioned housing for now.”

Phil sighs. “I’m glad to hear that, but honestly, you don’t need to reassure me. I’m not here to make sure you’re complying with the restrictions or anything.”

Clint’s smile is real, but tight. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, sometimes I’m reflexively a dick. The clerk _did_ have a few questions for me after - she called and we went over them together. They have all my information so they know we’re in housing and that Katie’s going to be registered at the proper pre-school, but they’re only giving me another three days to decide what I’m going to do.”

“Ah,” Phil says. “I’m sorry, that sounds stressful.”

Clint runs the hand not holding his dinner through his hair. “It is, and it isn’t. I mean, I’ve already made up my mind to risk the Bite. The question that’s getting me now is more the personal stuff. I’ve been reading a lot of wikipedia and,” he colours. “Well, it’s confusing, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Phil asks. “How so?”

Clint laughs, a little uncomfortably. “Oh, you know, the - regular stuff. The things they say about werewolves.” He glances at Phil and then away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Phil sighs. “They say a lot of things about us,” he says, suddenly tired. He’d thought… no. Of course Clint wasn’t any different. “Excuse me, I’ve got to get home.” 

“I’m sorry!” Clint says, stepping forward a little. The light changes and the pedestrians around them start crossing the street. Clint reaches out and snags Phil’s arm before he can walk away. 

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Clint goes on. “I mean, it probably came out like that, and I know you must hear a lot of stuff from a lot of people, and it’s probably your _job_ to deal with half those assholes anyway, I just meant I had questions about - ” he blushes, looking truly uncomfortable now. “You know, the sex stuff.”

 _That’s_ certainly not exactly what Phil had been expecting. “I beg your pardon?”

Phil can smell the blood rushing to Clint’s face. “You probably don’t want to hear about this,” he mutters, and lets go of Phil’s arm. 

It’s Phil’s turn to stop him before he turns away. “No, it’s okay,” he reassures him. “I don’t mind answering your questions, if you want to ask them, that is.”

Clint shuffles his feet, looking uncomfortable. “I - ”

“Why don’t we go somewhere else,” Phil suggests. He looks around. The street is hardly quiet. “Come on, there’s a coffee shop down this way, if you like.”

Clint bites his bottom lip, but nods, and silently follows Phil to the coffee shop. Phil orders them both a latte and they sit in the corner, far away from prying ears. Human ones, at least.

“So,” Phil starts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Go ahead. What have you been trying to find out?”

“Okay,” Clint says, shifting in his seat. “Um, most of my questions revolve around what actually happens when a werewolf bites a human. Like, is it a nibble? Does it have to break the skin? Does it really lead to, to - ” he lowers his voice, “a crazy sex orgy or something?”

Phil can’t help but smile. “Someone’s been watching werewolf porn, I see.”

Clint huffs a laugh. “It’s not my fault. Google keeps giving me youtube links.”

They share a smile, and then Phil clears his throat. “Well,” he starts, “to answer your question, yes - it’s a single bite that has to break the skin. It doesn’t usually lead to an orgy, but,” he hesitates. This is the part that’s always confused him. “Some people _do_ talk about a - a connection that can form.”

Clint cocks his head. “A connection? What do you mean?”

“Well,” Phil says, struggling to explain it, “I’m not actually sure. I was born a werewolf, myself, and I’ve never turned anyone, of course. My grandfather did, though. He said that it - well, that it creates a bond. That he could always sense when the werewolf he turned was nearby, and that he could feel her.” Phil shrugs. “I’ve never spoken to any of the people licensed to offer the bite myself, but my grandfather ended up marrying the woman he’d turned. She was my grandmother.”

“Oh,” Clint says, going quiet. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t - ” He shakes his head. “I don’t mind taking the risk of dying. I’ve had to make contingency plans for Katie, of course, and we’ll talk long and hard before anything is done, but it’s the risk of _living,_ of having someone I don’t know playing around inside my head...” He swallows heavily. “I don’t know if I could do it. I mean, she’s worth it and I _will,_ but - ”

Phil reaches out and touches his hand. “But you don’t want to.”

Clint looks stricken. “No.”

They sit quietly for a moment. 

“What would make it easier?” Phil asks.

Clint huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know,” he confesses. “A rap sheet? A ‘hello, who are you, what are you like?’ maybe, instead of an official ‘this person will be your biter today.’”

Phil smiles. “I don’t think they’d refer to it as a ‘rap sheet.’”

Clint chuckles. “No, I guess not.” He sobers. “I know there aren’t many licensed werewolf biters in the country, and I’m going to be stuck with whatever they give me, anyways, but I wish that there was something better.”

Phil finds himself speaking before the thought is fully assembled. “What if I did it?”

Clint jerks his head up to stare at him. “What?”

Phil colours. “I - I mean,” he starts, the words tumbling out. “I like you. I - well, I do. And you know me, at least a little bit. And I’m an alpha, so…” He trails off, mortification setting in. “I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Clint says, turning his hand so he catches Phil’s, stopping him from bolting. “I like you, too.”

Phil blinks and stares at him. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, a little uncomfortably, shifting a few times in his seat. “You’re cute, like, really cute, and you were so good with Katie today. I kept expecting you to be an asshole, and you never were. You were just - good. You seem _good_ , overall.”

Phil colours. “I’m an agent of S.W.O.R.D.,” he admits, “and before that, I was a member of Werewolf Ops. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not proud of.”

Clint shakes his head. “I’ve done worse, I guarantee you. I don’t - I’m not a plumber, or a mechanic, or a pianist.” He twists his fingers, rubbing his unusual calluses together. “My hands are not clean. But I want to be a good father to Katie. I want to be family to her.”

Phil squeezes his hands. “You don’t have to take the Bite to be her family,” he promises.

Clint snorts. “Yes, I do. They’ll let me, what? Visit? On weekends? While supervised? No.” He looks up at Phil. “I’m not afraid of the Bite. I’m afraid of what it would mean after.”

“What if it doesn’t mean anything?” Phil has to ask. “What if the stories are wrong and it’s just - nothing?”

“It won’t be nothing,” Clint tells him. His voice is hushed. “Can’t you feel it Phil?” He turns his hand so they’re palm against palm. “It won’t be nothing.”

They breathe together.

Phil swallows. “Okay,” he says. “So how about - listen, you go home, see Katie, have dinner, and call me tomorrow. I’ll look into the legalities of this.”

Clint smiles. “That sounds great.” He pauses before biting his lower lip. “You should come over, tomorrow. Pick me up. I’ll find someone in the building to watch over Kate. We should - talk. It’s not just me who needs to be comfortable here, Phil. What you’re offering - you have to be willing to have that connection with _me,_ too.”

Phil isn’t concerned about that, which, in itself, should be concerning. It’s not, though. “We’ll go out on a date,” he says. “We’ll talk. I’ll buy you dinner.”

Clint grins. “Sounds like a plan.”

They exchange phone numbers. Phil finds himself lingering beside Clint outside the coffee shop. 

“Tomorrow,” Clint says finally, squeezing Phil’s hand once more before stepping away. They’ve been holding hands since leaving the shop. “I’ll call you.”

“Tomorrow,” Phil agrees, nodding. He let’s Clint go. “Say hi to Katie for me.”

He watches Clint walk away, and then turns, heading left towards his own building. It’s not far from the government-subsidized housing, so he should probably have realized he’d be living quite close to Clint.

Phil expects to toss and turns with all that’s happened over the past few hours, but he falls into bed grinning and passes right out. He wakes in the morning with a smile on his face and all but bounces into the office.

“Whoa,” Jasper says, catching his coffee before it can spill over onto his files. “Phil. You’re alive today.”

“I’m alive every day,” Phil tells him, not bothering to hide his expression. “And good morning to you, too.”

“Uh huh,” Jasper says, turning to watch him walk to his office. 

“What’s up?” Natasha asks, appearing from behind a corner. Jasper startles, nearly spilling his coffee again. Natasha grins.

“Phil’s happy,” Jasper says, dabbing at his files. “Go torment him and leave me alone.”

“Happy, huh?” Natasha says. She eyes Phil speculatively.

Phil rolls his eyes. He’d been the one to recruit Natasha, who’d worked with her to prove that she wasn’t a threat. “You don’t scare me with that.”

“With what?” Natasha asks, suddenly looking wide-eyed and innocent.

Jasper snorts. “With the whole ‘I’m a crazy Russian assassin’ vibe,” he explains. “Phil’s the only one out of all of us you wouldn’t instantly murder if you decided to go rogue.”

Natasha grins, wolfish again. “At least you know you aren’t safe.”

“Err,” Jasper prevaricates, and hightails it back to his office.

Phil snorts. He unlock his door and ushers Natasha in. “How’s Brazil looking?”

Natasha folds herself gracefully into his guest chair. “The team is in transit, they land in thirty. Deputy Director Hill has a live line running for you in the command centre. She’d like you there as soon as possible, please.”

Phil nods and drops his briefcase on his desk. “I’ll head up in a moment.”

Natasha eyes him. “I still don’t understand why I wasn’t sent along.”

“Your speciality is close combat, not eyes up high,” Phil reminds her. “We need observation, not assassination.”

She makes a face. Natasha is a Russian werewolf, an omega, specially trained by the secretive Red Room to be absolutely deadly in a fight. Where alphas are traditionally thought of as the protectors of the pack, the omegas are the defenders. They are classically ruthless, and unconcerned with collateral damage. 

That’s just a generality, Phil knows, but still - Natasha’s ability to get in, get out, and leave a lot of people dead behind her is legendary. He’s still not entirely sure why she’d agreed to stop being an independent and come work for him.

“Jasper’s right, though,” Natasha says, still looking at him. “You _are_ happy.”

Phil shoots her a grin. “Go tell Maria that I’m on my way,” he says, not denying anything. “I’ll be there in five.”

Natasha nods and slides off her chair, slipping out of his office. Phil reaches for his phone and connects to switchboard. “Yes, thank you,” he says, when the clerk comes on the line. “I’d like to look into how to become licensed to perform the Bite, please.”

 

*

 

The op goes smoothly, a quick in-and-out reconnaissance, and a secondary team is stationed to keep an eye on the situation. Phil completes his paperwork with an hour to spare until he’s due to meet Clint. They’ve been texting on and off throughout the day.

He’s seen Natasha glance once or twice at his cell, and Jasper, too, but no one’s said anything yet. They’ll corner him, eventually, either separately or together, and Phil just hopes they give him a few more days. He’d like to know that this is honestly going to _be_ something before they force him to reveal details. He’s hopeful, though.

Of course, the conversation he has with the license officer that afternoon puts a damper on his enthusiasm. 

“This is really, really dangerous,” he tells Clint when he picks him up for dinner that evening.

Clint cocks his head. “Are you allergic to Mexican food?”

“You know what I mean,” Phil says, colouring. “The Bite. I’ve been speaking to the licensing bureau and they’ve been giving me some statistics. Did you know that three to five percent is an average? In some countries, it’s as low as two.”

Clint smiles and ushers him into the apartment. “Wait here,” he says. “Katie’s just going down for the evening and I’m going to kiss her goodnight.” He leaves Phil to fret and disappears into the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

Phil’s enhanced hearing can pick up their voices, Katie’s sleepy tones and Clint’s reassuring timbre. There’s an older woman in the kitchen, a beta, and she smiles when Phil looks her way.

“Hola,” she says, bowing slightly. “I am Mrs. Garcia.”

“Hola, Mrs. Garcia,” Phil says, returning her nod. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

“Mrs. Garcia is going to watch over the apartment for me,” Clint explains, stepping back into the living room. “She’s a godsend.” He leans in to kiss her cheek.

Mrs. Garcia giggles. “Oh, no, señor,” she says. “Katie is good girl. I’ll just sit and watch my shows.” She nods to the television set.

“Take anything you want out of the fridge,” Clint tells her. “There’s lots, so don’t go hungry.” He grabs a jacket and walks over to Phil. “Are we ready?”

Phil nods, and together they walk back to the hallway. Phil feels his nerves return. “Clint - ”

“Wait,” Clint says, holding up a hand with a gentle smile. “Come on, this way. I’m going to blow your mind with this food.”

They end up sitting in a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that serves the most delicious migas Phil’s ever tasted. “This is incredible.”

“Mm, isn’t it just?” Clint asks. He takes a giant bite of his gorditas. “I used to come here all the time back in the day. I’m glad the place is still open.”

They eat until they’re both full, and Phil feels somewhat steadier. “Clint,” he says, seriously, putting down his utensils. “I really do need to tell you this. The statistics are pretty bad.”

Clint leans back in his chair and stares at him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Phil hesitates. He could lie, but he’s pretty sure that this is the time for honesty. “I don’t want to watch you die.”

Clint’s expression cracks. “Oh, hey, Phil,” he says, leaning forward and taking Phil’s hand. “You don’t even know me yet. That’s the point of all of this.”

“I know that you’re a good dad, even if you’re really Kate’s uncle,” Phil says. “I know that you’re fun, and cute, and that I’d like to get to know you better. We can do that. We can work on that. We can find the way to bend the system, Clint, something - ”

Clint shakes his head. “Katie almost bit me this morning,” he says.

Phil hears the words like a shock of cold water. “What? No. What happened?”

Clint sighs. “What usually happens, I guess.” He runs a hand through his hair. “She’s four. She doesn’t have temper tantrums so much anymore, but this has been a huge adjustment for her and, in many ways, she was happy in the group home. I’m the one who pulled her out of there and some days I’m still not sure if it was the right thing to do. This morning something stupid happened, the last pancake got burnt, and she burst into tears. When I tried to comfort her, she threw a tantrum and turned her head to try and bite me.”

Phil slumps in his chair. “Oh.”

Clint smiles thinly. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Look, Phil - I like you, I really do. I’d chose you over a random, licensed person any day, but, in the end, I’ve got to do this. I can’t put this on Katie’s shoulders. She was so upset after this happened. She didn’t mean to hurt me, and she felt terrible.” He shakes his head. “I’ve got to take the Bite.”

Phil lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He looks up. “Tell me a little about yourself, then.”

It isn’t anything like a conventional date - it’s like an interview, in some ways, but that doesn’t mean that it’s bad. Clint tells Phil about growing up in Iowa, about the car accident that killed his parents, about how he and Barney had joined the circus. There’s obviously a lot he’s leaving out, but it’s one hell of a start.

Phil, in turn, tells Clint about his childhood, about growing up with loving parents who were thrilled to have a puppy. “Werewolf fertility rates are extremely low,” he tells Clint, over their shared plate of churros. “Only omega females can become pregnant, and there aren’t a lot of those. My parents tried for years to have a second child without success.” 

He’s not sure how much to gloss over when it comes to the army, or the duties he performs for S.W.O.R.D. 

“I get that it’s confidential,” Clint says. “I did a stint in the army myself.”

They end up comparing training bases, and then move onto favourite action movies, and from there to tv shows and books that they’ve both read. Things slowly relax between them.

“This was fun,” Clint says, when the restaurant is closing and they have to leave. “I wish we didn’t have this threat hanging over our heads. I wish we could just… take the time to really enjoy this.”

Phil finds his hand and squeezes it. “I know. So, tomorrow might get a little crazy for me, but can we meet maybe later for drinks?”

Clint nods. “Come to the apartment, any time, just text me,” he says. “I can’t ask Mrs. Garcia to do two nights in a row, and besides - ” He bites his lip.

Phil understands immediately. “You don’t want to miss too much time with her.”

Clint nods. He looks miserable. 

“Hey,” Phil says, stopping Clint from turning away and and pulling him into a hug.

Clint’s tense at first, but then he relaxes, hands coming up to clutch at Phil. 

“I’m scared, Phil,” Clint admits, clinging to the back of his shirt. “I don’t want to be, but I am.”

“It’s okay,” Phil tells him, hugging him close. He doesn’t let go. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Phil’s not sure how long they end up holding each other, but by the time they break apart, he knows his face is wet. Sleep that night is harder to find then it was the night before, and Phil wakes to find that he’s tossed and turned. The covers are all thrown off and pooling by the side of the bed. He takes an extra long shower and tries to summon his usual blank expression when he steps into work an hour later.

“Oh, no,” Natasha says, when she turns sees him. She’s been waiting for him in his office. “Jasper was right. Did he break up with you?”

Phil sighs and drops his briefcase. “It’s complicated.”

She looks grim. “Do I have to kill someone?”

“What?” Phil says, startled. “No. Natasha, no. It’s just - ” he rubs a hand over his face. “He wants me to bite him.”

She looks shocked, and he quickly explains. “He’s not a nut, he’s got a daughter - a niece, really - and she’s an alpha while he’s human. He’s only got forty eight hours to make a decision and he’d rather I bite him than some official from the licensing bureau.”

Natasha takes a deep breath and lets it out through her mouth. “That’s... quite a commitment.”

“Yeah,” Phil sighs. “And I’ve only known him two days.”

Natasha looks sympathetic. “What’s his name?”

“Clint Barton,” Phil says.

She blinks. 

Phil stares at her. Natasha doesn’t have a lot of tells, but that’s one of them. “What? Do you know him?”

She licks her lips and looks away. “I don’t know,” she says, after a minute. “I suppose that it’s possible there’s more than one Clint Barton in the world. Is he short, sandy blonde, with strong shoulders and kind eyes?”

Phil can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s him.”

“чёрт побери,” Natasha says, shaking her head. “Who would have thought? You said he has a niece?”

“Yes,” Phil says. He frowns. “Natasha, what are you thinking?”

“Don’t worry, Phil,” she says, shooting him a smile. “I won’t hurt anyone. I owe him my life.”

Phil ends up skipping a quarterly budget meeting to sneak out of S.W.O.R.D. and have dinner with Natasha, Katie, and - apparently - _Hawkeye._

“You didn’t tell me?” Phil hisses, relieved and embarrassed and trying not to swoon because _Hawkeye._ Sitting right in front of him! Drinking beer!

Phil’s been on-and-off chasing the legendary assassin for the better part of his career. He’s requested the funding to go full-scale after him several times, but the World Security Council has always refused. Phil’s insistence that the man was human despite many officials feelings to the contrary didn’t help his case. S.W.O.R.D. wasn’t the agency that dealt with humans.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up in conversation,” Clint hisses back. “Besides, how was I to know you were the legendary Black Suit who kept ruining all my ops?!”

Natasha hides behind her glass and laughs at them. Katie, oblivious, orders more shish kebabs.

Phil ends up sprawled on Clint’s couch while Katie naps in her room and Clint paces in front of the TV. “Natalia?” he says. “Really?”

Natasha laughs at him over the phone. She’d had to go back to S.W.O.R.D. after dinner, but Phil had followed Clint back to his place. He’s long since lost thread of the argument they’re having, since most of it is in Russian. He hates them both.

“я тебя тоже люблю,” Clint says, hanging up on Natasha. He turns to Phil with a sigh. “Natasha says you’re a good man.”

“I try to be,” Phil confesses, even though the ceiling keep spinning more than he thinks it should. How many vodka martini’s had he drank? “I think you try to be, too.”

“Maybe,” Clint admits, coming close enough to sit, leaning back against the couch. “Most days.”

“You’re good with Katie,” Phil tells him again. He closes his eyes so the world stops moving. He knows his words are slurred. “You are.”

“Thanks,” Clint says, so softly that Phil might have imagined it. He doesn’t know more until he wakes up.

“Whoa,” Phil says, sitting up on the couch. He’s confused and disorientated, and wow, does he ever need coffee.

“Good morning,” Clint says, looking awaked and relaxed, even though the relaxed thing is feigned - Phil’s learned enough about him to tell that, now. “Did you sleep well?”

“Ugh, coffee,” Phil says, waving a hand in Clint’s direction.

Clint chuckles and provides him with a cup. Phil drinks it black. 

“Mmm,” he says. “That’s better.”

“So,” Clint says, scratching the back of his neck. “Today’s, uh, the day. The licensing office called and they said they made us an appointment at noon.”

“Oh,” Phil says, sitting straighter. “Right. I need to talk to Natasha; I took the day off but she’s going to be covering for me. I need to update her.”

Clint blinks. “You mean you still want to do this? Even though I’m - ” he gestures to himself. 

“Adorable?” Phil guesses. Moon, he must still be drunk. “Good looking? Not a lush?”

Clint colours. “No,” he insists. “You know - Hawkeye. The mercenary.”

Phil eyes him. “I think, if you survive this, we’ll be having a recruitment speech.”

Clint chuckles. “Yeah, I got the gist of that last night.”

Phil winces. “What did I say?”

“Oh, you just waxed on about the social justices involved with being on the ‘side of light,’” Clint teases. “It was adorable, really. Honest.”

Phil makes a face. “Are _you_ okay with,” he likewise gestures to himself, “all of this?”

“Of course,” Clint says, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Phil looks away and shrugs. “Suddenly you’re not just a fantastic father-figure and breathtaking when you smile, now you’re a legendary assassin who’s known for being a bit of a rake. I figured you’d have other options.”

Clint steps close enough to touch Phil’s chin and turn his head so their eyes meet. “There’s no one I’d rather take this chance with,” he promises. “No one I’d rather do this with, than with you.”

Phil blinks, but when stares into Clint’s eyes, he believes him. “Okay,” Phil says, nodding. He summons his confidence. “Okay. I spoke to the licensing officer yesterday and she’ll bring the paperwork with her today. How do you want to do this?”

Clint wakes Katie and makes her breakfast, sitting her down at the small table in the kitchen and starting the conversation with her. Phil stays just long enough to explain a little of the werewolf side of things, and then he leaves, heading back to his own apartment to shower.

Katie’s looking pretty red-eyed by the time he makes it back there, and Clint definitely blotchy himself. Phil draws them both into a hug. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Clint nods, completely serious. “I’m sure.”

Katie starts crying again, but then Mrs. Garcia arrives. There’s a bit of a struggle as Katie kicks, not wanting to let Clint go. Clint holds her tight, burying his face in her hair, and speaks to her softly, reminding her of what they’d talked about. Phil stands a little distance away and does his best not to hear.

“Okay, let’s go,” Clint says, wiping his face on his sleeve as he turns away. “Come on.”

They leave Kate with Mrs. Garcia walk together all the way to S.W.O.R.D. They don’t say much - it feels like there’s nothing left to say - but halfway there Phil reaches out and take Clint’s hand. He squeezes.

Clint squeezes back.

“Good afternoon,” the official says, when Phil leads them through the front doors of S.W.O.R.D. and to the testing area where they’d watched Katie perform. “Are you Phil Coulson and Clint Barton?”

Phil nods. “We are.”

“Excellent,” the woman says. She’s older, with thick greying hair and an aloof, calm expression. She’s an alpha, but her scent isn’t jarring. It’s steady. “I’ll need to see two pieces of government I.D., please, and your alpha werewolf status card, Agent Coulson.”

They nod and produce the required documents. The official leads them to a room in the back, a concrete-walled chamber that looks more like a cell than anything else, in spite of the fold-out couch and small, cheap desk lamp. There’s generic artwork on the walls.

“I’m sorry about the decor,” the official says. “We don’t use this room very often, as you might guess.”

Phil summons a tight smile. “I suppose not.”

She gestures, and Clint and Phil sit down awkwardly beside each other on the couch. The official reviews the bite requirement they had discussed yesterday, and then goes over the paperwork and has them sign. 

When they’re done, Phil takes a deep, slightly uneven breath, and looks over at Clint. “Are you ready?”

Clint nods, white-faced and clearly terrified, but not backing down. “Yes.”

Phil swallows to settle his own nerves, and then moves forward. 

Clint stops him with a hand on his chest. “Wait!”

Phil backs off instantly. “Wha -?”

Clint grabs his collar and drags him forward, his teeth scraping over Phil’s. “Just - ”

Phil catches on then, bringing his hands up to hold Clint’s head, angling him better, and diving in for a kiss. “ _Clint._ ”

“I just - _fuck,_ ” Clint says, his lips sweet and full against Phil’s mouth. “I want - ”

“I know,” Phil says, and kisses him again.

Clint whimpers.

Phil kisses him, long and hard and deep. Clint opens his mouth and clutches at Phil’s shoulders, allowing Phil to plunder him. “ _Phil_.”

“I’m going to take care of you,” Phil babbles, promises tumbling from his lips. He kisses up and down Clint’s face, over his cheeks, on top of his nose. “I swear to you I will, you’ll never want for anything, I’m going to be so good to you, I promise.”

“I know you will, I know,” Clint says, sounding desperate. “I just - if this doesn’t work, if I die, please look after Katie. Help her, if you can. Natasha said she would, too.”

“Of course we will,” Phil promises. “Of course.”

Their frantic kisses slow, and then stop, and then they clutch at each other. Clint’s shaking, a low-frequency tremor, but he seems calmer now.

“Okay,” he says, finally, bending his neck to the side. “I’m ready. Do it.”

Phil nods and draws him closer, brushing his lips against his neck. He breathes in Clint’s scent and kisses his skin, pressing his lips down against Clint’s pulse.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, even though he can’t know that, he can’t promise that. “It’s going to be okay.”

He opens his mouth, bares his teeth, and bites down. 

It’s a rush. Phil doesn’t know if it’s the taste of Clint’s skin, their previous, desperate pawing, or the absolute, _forbidden_ nature of this, but suddenly desire swamps him. He growls, low and deep in his throat, and drags Clint closer towards him. 

Werewolves aren’t vampires, their teeth don’t extend. Nobody's quite sure how the Bite works, because there are no venom sacks or anything researchers have been able to pinpoint and remove to reduce the danger alpha werewolves pose to humans. Some have theorized it has to do with tiny lymph glands that line the teeth, so small as to be microscopic, which infect a human when they mix with their blood.

Either way, Phil can feel the changes. He’s holding Clint so close that he’s surrounded by his heartbeat, that he’s aware in every particular of Clint’s smell, his fear, and his answering, equal desire. Clint’s cock is hard against Phil’s leg, but Phil isn’t moved to do anything about it except hold Clint still and bite him, pressing down, down, _down,_ savouring the taste of him in his mouth.

Clint jerks, at first just his hips, rubbing against Phil’s leg, but then his torso, and then his arms and legs, too. He’s seizing. He’s obviously trying to control it, locking his jaw against the spasms, but he can’t. Phil holds him tight and uses his superior strength to protect him.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and he’s not sure if it’s out loud or in his mind, because he’s still got his jaw wrapped around Clint’s shoulder and Clint’s blood in his mouth. “I’m here.”

“ _Phil,_ ” Clint gasps, and it’s scared and horny and desperate. His hands spasm against Phil’s back, both pushing and pulling. “It’s - ”

“Shh,” Phil murmurs. He backs away from the bite, loosening his jaw so he can slide his tongue over the wound, and over and over and over again. “Shh.”

Clint’s neck is a raw, bloody mess. Phil licks it clean, and when it keeps bleeding, he licks it again. Clint’s seizing for real now, his heart going a mile a minute, but Phil holds him carefully, protecting him so he doesn’t break his back. 

“Ugh - ugh,” Clint gurgles. “Ph- Phil - ”

“I’ve got you,” Phil says. He’s reached a calm headspace, a place of absolute peace and certainty. “It’s okay.”

Clint’s heart beat dips, and then changes. It gets lower, a drumming _thrum-thrum-thrum_ sound, instead of a human’s quick _pitter-pitter-pat_. His scent changes, too, subtly, become earthier, spicier, and gathering a hint of the moon. 

“Shh,” Phil says, and goes back to tonguing Clint’s neck. “Shh.”

Slowly, Clint’s jerks settle. His gasping pants turn to deep breaths through his nose. Phil can hear his joints loosen, can feel when his muscles relax. They’re stronger now, faster, more durable. His skin has roughened slightly, loosing some of the sheer, water-filled membrane that humans hold in reserve. It’s tougher. 

“I’ve got you,” Phil repeats. His mind opens, his calm headspace relaxing a little, and a small, bright point forms, a tiny connection that he can feel. “I’ve got you, Clint.”

“I - _oh,_ ” Clint says. He turns, bending his head to dip it into the scent-space between Phil’s neck and his shoulder. “You smell so _good._ ”

Clint’s scent is settling, his designation becoming obvious. Phil blinks in surprise. “You’re an omega.”

“Mm,” Clint murmurs. Phil doesn’t think he’s listening. “How did I never realize you could smell so good?”

Phil stops licking and presses a small kiss to Clint’s wound. It’s healing now, though still raw - it’ll scar soon, a dark, vivid mark that gives Phil a possessive thrill. 

He’s suddenly aware again of his hard cock, and of Clint still aching against his flexed thigh. He moves his leg experimentally, and is reward when Clint growls.

“Yes,” Phil groans, moving again. He twitches his own hips, feeling his cock grate along Clint’s leg.

“Phil,” Clint moans, holding him tight. “Do that again.”

Phil does. They hump against each other, each looking for an edge, until Phil decides that they clearly have too many clothes on. He snarls and starts ripping off Clint’s shirt, his werewolf strength easily tearing through the cheap fabric. 

Behind him, he’s vaguely aware of the official rising from her seat and leaving the room, but it doesn’t stop him. She’s not important. Clint is _his_. He’s _his._

“Yes,” Clint moans, hands catching Phil’s shirt and tugging. “Yes, yours, alpha, _please._ ”

Phil growls, the title doing something to him, and steps back, holding Clint with one hand. He maneuvers them off the couch, grabs the handle that will unfold it into a bed, and jerks. He’s too rough and the pillows go flying, but Phil doesn’t care. Clint is flexing in his arms, trying desperately to drag his cock against any part of Phil he can find, and Phil wants to - _needs to_ \- take care of him.

“You’re mine,” Phil promises, as he lays him down and starts stripping him of his clothes. “All mine.” 

“Yes,” Clint gasps, his eyes blown and his breath coming heavy. _“Please._ ”

Phil rips off his own suit and they’re finally naked together. Phil covers Clint with his body and starts kissing him, thrusting his tongue deep inside Clint’s mouth and then sucking on his lip, pulling back just enough to kiss his way down Clint’s jaw and to his shoulder, stopping to lick and suck at the scar forming there.

“Fuck,” Clint groans, jerking underneath him. 

Phil kisses his way down to his chest, sucks on a nipple, and then goes back to the scar. He tongues it wildly, then nips it again to keep the blood flowing.

“Oh - _God_ \- ” Clint chokes out, his hips thrusting. “That - _good_ \- ”

His cock drags against Phil’s belly. Phil growls and reaches down with one hand to line them up together, feeling the wonderful, smooth slide that is Clint’s cock next to his own. He bites down on Clint’s shoulder as he squeezes them both, precum making it easier.

“Fuck, fuck, _Phil,_ ” Clint gasps.

It’s not going to take much. Phil can feel the haze of orgasm growing, a surging wave, just hovering on the edge of his horizon. In his mind, the bright point that is Clint start to glow.

“Mine,” Phil growls, snapping his hips forward. He squeezes the hand that’s holding them both, and bites down again on Clint’s shoulder. “All mine.”

Clint’s mouth opens. He gasps. His hips stutter and Phil squeezes again. 

Orgasm slams into him, swamping him under. The bright point in his mind flares, growing to encompass his entire world. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s coming, him and Clint together, their come shooting out to splatter in a hot mess between their chests.

Phil holds himself taunt as the aftershocks shake him. The brightness in his mind holds, keeps holding, and then begins to shrink, dimming down until it’s back where it was before, but stronger, steadier, than it had been.

“Mmm,” Clint groans, sounding utterly fucked and loving it. He thrusts a few more times into Phil’s hand. “Ye _ss,_ ” he slurs. “My alpha. Good.”

Phil feels a warm, low, surge of sensation as the title rolls easily off Clint’s lips. It triggers something inside of him, something deeper than just desire, and it makes him lean forward and put his mouth back over Clint’s shoulder.

They both suck in a breath as their cocks give a simultaneous extra spurt, and that hazy, bright place in Phil’s mind flares again.

“Well,” Clint says, maybe ten minutes later, when they’ve come down from the most spectacular orgasm Phil’s ever had, “I thought you promised me no orgies.”

Phil has to laugh, catching it in his throat and then letting it out, and beside him, Clint does the same. They hold each other and chuckle, nerves and joy and dissipating terror relaxing between them.

“I’ve got to call Katie,” Clint says, once they’ve settled. “She’s probably worried sick.”

“I’ll get your cell,” Phil promises, leaning over the side of the bed to snag his pants and then Clint’s. They’re ripped, but still serviceable. He grabs his phone and throw Clint his. He should text Natasha. “You can call her.”

Clint cocks his head and stares at Phil. “You know,” he says, “just because you're my alpha, doesn’t mean you have to do everything for me all the time, you know.”

Phil colours. “Maybe not,” he prevaricates, glancing down at his phone and thumbing it on, “but, I promised, didn’t I?” He looks up at Clint.

Clint’s eyes go soft. “Yeah,” he says, reaching out and pulling Phil close. He ducks his head and rests their foreheads together. “You did. How long were you planning on sticking to that?”

“Forever,” Phil says, turning so he can kiss him, long and hard and deep, and then moving to press his lips to Clint’s scar. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever sounds just about right, then,” Clint says, sighing happily, relaxing under Phil’s touch.

Katie bursts into happy tears Phil can hear over the phone when they call her, and they speak to her together to comfort her through them. The official comes back in once they’ve pried themselves out of bed and gotten dressed, though they still have their arms wrapped around each other.

“Well,” she says, sounding slightly out of breath and flustered, “that’s certainly the first time I’ve ever witnessed the creation of a bonded pair.”

“I’m sorry?” Phil asks, still halfway distracted by the press of Clint’s warm, healthy skin against his hand. He can feel his heart beat going, a reassuring drum.

“A bonded pair,” the official explains. “There are case reports of it, but it’s rare, and not well studied, of course.” She gives them both a look. “You can feel each other, can’t you? In a place in your mind?”

Phil turns his attention to that warm spot, that piece of brightness he can feel. It’s strong. “Yes.”

Beside him, Clint nods. “It’s like a dark flame, solid and warm.”

The official smiles. “Well, it seems I need to fetch a little more paperwork, than. If you’ll excuse.”

Clint and Phil turn to each other the moment she’s gone.

“Are you okay with this?” Clint asks, scooting close so he’s practically sitting in Phil’s lap.

“Yes, absolutely,” Phil assures him. “Are you? This was what you were worried about, after all.”

“This was what I was _hoping for,_ ” Clint corrects him. “But only with you.”

Phil smiles, and directs that smile inwardly, to that bright place in his mind. Clint gasps, and Phil grins. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes,” Clint says. “Wait, here - ” He does something, and Phil feels a surge of love and thankfulness, joy and acceptance, coming from the bright place.

“Oh,” Phil says, his words swept away. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, tucking himself closer. “Cool.”

Phil chuckles. “I’ll say. So, do you think Katie will be okay with having a second dad around in her life?”

Clint smiles, and inside his mind, the bright place hums. “Yeah,” he says, putting his head on Phil’s shoulder. “I think she’ll be thrilled.”

 

 

~ The End

**Author's Note:**

> The number of tags for this story is hilarious. If I forgot anything, or anyone has anything they think I should add, let me know! I found the "custody arrangements" tag and figured that maybe summed up the warning I wanted to give? I think. Let me know if it wasn't enough.


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